


Volantene Noblewoman

by DarthChocolate



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:21:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27044905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthChocolate/pseuds/DarthChocolate
Summary: During Oberyn's trip through the Free Cities, he stumbled a beautiful intriguing woman and acquired a Sand Snake.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Volantene Noblewoman

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lyannathewolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyannathewolf/gifts).



Being exile was considered a punishment even if it was unofficial. Prince Oberyn viewed his exile as an excuse to travel. Essos was vast. He desired to experience every corner of it. As a visiting prince, he garnered a great deal of attention from rich merchants, nobles, and their beautiful daughters. A merely beautiful woman was like a flower. It blossoms for a time and withers quickly. He craved something more than simply appearance. He wanted a woman, who would captivate a depth of interest. Lys, Myr and Tyrosh didn’t prove to have any true gems. He stumbled upon such a woman in the old city of Volantis.

Her long dark silk hair was braided down her back. Darianna Publios always had her slave girl braid her hair before she snuck out from the Black Walls. Her father didn’t wish for her to lean how to fight. She would venture into the city and train. Her father believed she was acting as the dutiful daughter since she would return home with fruits or fish. She would practice in some forgotten alley, where no one would care.

Until one afternoon, Oberyn walked past her. She was beautiful. This didn’t catch his attention as much as the piece of metal soaring through the air. It hit a tree twenty yards away. “What kind of weapon is that?”

“An onzil,” Darianna went to retrieve it.

“Where does it come from?”

She yanked it out, “where do you come from? Your accent is unknown to me.”

“Well, if you tell me where it comes from, I’ll tell you where I come from.”

“You first.”

“How about this,” Oberyn picked up two long sticks. “We duel for it. If I win, you invite me to dinner and tell me all about it. If you win, get this.” He placed his stiletto on the ground.

Her guard gave her a weary look. Darianna was thrilled by the challenge. She eagerly accepted. A bravos had taught her some water dancing, and her guard taught her swordplay. She was confident that she would prevail. Her confidence had shattered with his lightning fast attacks. He defeated her. “Alright, sir,” she held up her hand. “I’ll need to know your name to welcome you to my home.”

“Oberyn Martells,” he helped her up.

“Darianna Publios. Please don’t mention my fighting to my family.”

“No fear, I always keep a lady’s secret.”

She smiled suggestively, “it does seem that you have a few of your own secrets.” She attempted to conceal his arrival to her home. It was such a big manse.

Her father, Vhalaso Publios still found out and confronted her privately about it. His slave scribe stood next to him. “Well, who is this stranger?”

“He’s a …” The Valyrian word for scribe had been tattooed on his forehead, “a prince. Martell is the name of the royal line of Dorne.”

“Dorne?” She was still at a loss.

“It’s part of Westeros. We do some trade with this kingdom.” Her father responded first.

The scribe gave more details. “Though they are under the king of the Seven Kingdoms, the prince or princess of Dorne still rules over their kingdom.”

“Princess,” she seldom heard that mention of any kingdom.

“Yes, a princess currently rules Dorne. The law there is the eldest child inherits and not just the male.”

“Strange,” her father shrugged. “Anyway, prepare a royal feast then for our guest.” Oberyn was given a place of honor at their table. He declined it to sit next Darianna. Vhalaso hadn’t been bothered by the young man flirting with his daughter. A nobleman’s daughter wasn’t viewed with contempt for having an affair or even bearing a baby. It proved the girl was fertile. Though, no Old Blood ever encouraged such affairs for their children. Vhalaso remained cautious. “How did you meet my daughter?”

She concealed her racing heart behind a calm demeanor as she hung onto Oberyn’s answer. “We met at the market. I was attracted by her passionate words.”

“Yes, my daughter is very political minded.” She restrained a sigh of relief at her father’s interpretation of his words. Vhalaso had been pleased by her actions. He wished his son had been more involved in their political party. “She has been campaigning to fight against the pirates.”

“For centuries, pirates have been the scourge of our seas. They have stolen, kidnapped, raped and murdered our people.” Her voice rose full of passion. “It is ridiculous to leave everyone to fend for themselves against pirates. Without a strong united front, we will never truly defeat pirates.”

“It will never happen,” her bored brother stuck his spoon inside the stuffed pepper. “The Elephants control the Triarch, and they don’t ever support fighting.” The Triarch were three temporary rulers, who were elected by the Old Blood or nobles. The two quarreling parties were the Elephants and the Tigers.

“We can’t give up. Lives depend upon it.” Darianna felt that was the problem with the Old Blood. It was too complacent which stirred her to want to fight.

Her father provided fine lodging for Prince Oberyn and his servants. The sun was setting as she snuck into his bedchambers. “Do you still want to know?”

“Definitely.” He eagerly followed her through corridors, on ledges and in a secret passageway to her family’s garden.

She introduced him to two slaves. “This is Baqyr and his younger sister Efterpi. They don’t look it. However, they descended from a primitive tribe from Sothoryos. As the Old Valyrians had done with the Ghisacri, they destroyed most of their culture. All that remains is a little shimmer of green in their hair, wielding an onzil and their knowledge of plants.” Both brother and sister had tattoo of a leaf on their cheeks. “They tend to the garden most times except during celebrations when they perform their dagger feats. Anyway, this Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne.” They regarded her in confusion. “From Westeros, the Sunset lands?”

“Half of my blood is Dornish,” he clarified. “The other part is Rhoynar.”

Baqyr grinned, “the river people who beat the Old Valyrian in battle. They may have driven your people from your home. You survived, while they perished.” Darianna was slightly annoyed by his remarked since the Old Blood highly esteemed Old Valyria. Her family even worshiped the Valyrian goddess Vhager. “I would love to observe your people’s style of fighting.”

“As I would like to observe your people’s style, tomorrow, we will,” Oberyn looked forward to it. He could tell Baqyr was a skilled fighter by his physique and his stance. A rare fighting style was exciting.

He and Darianna returned after breakfast. Oberyn had many questions. “Why this onzil instead of a bow and arrow?”

Baqyr was pruning a bush in the garden. “The creatures in Sothoryos are big and fierce. My ancestors needed a weapon that would kill the creature with one stroke at a distance and close. There is no time to switch weapons in a fight. Arrow heads are too small. The creatures can survive most times three or four shots from the bow. By three shots, they’ve made it close enough to sink their claws into you.”

Oberyn noticed the onzil was a rather large dagger with a terrifying axe design. “What about throwing spears?” Throwing spears was a common practice of Dornish fighters in war.

“Hmm,” Baqyr halted from his work. He took Oberyn’s spear. “You need room to swing. The forest is too confiding. It wouldn’t work.”

Darianna walked towards them, “my home is too confiding. Let’s go practice.” She wrapped her arm around Oberyn’s arm.

“What do you intend to practice?” Baqyr put down the spear.

Oberyn’s eyes perked up, “What is there to learn?”

“Five days from now, a man from Asshai sets up shop in a certain dark corner of the city.”

“Is he a shadowbinder?”

Baqyr shook his head to her. “Never deal with shadowbinders. The man sells secrets and rare poisons for three months.”

“Does he teach poisons?” Oberyn asked.

“He has been known to.”

“How many honor coins do we need to pay him for a secret?” This caught Darianna’s interest.

“He accepts no coin or gold in payment. Only live quail, mice, doves or rats can be traded for such knowledge.”

“Mysterious,” she glanced at Oberyn. “How will we pass the time until his arrival.” Oberyn shot her mischievous grin. They sparred together in a field. The practice had been far different than hers with Baqyr, Efterpi or her guard. She heard of bravos showing off during a fight. Oberyn flirted as he fought her in both word and action. She found it very welcoming distracting sometimes.

He became distracted too as they returned behind the Black Walls. In a courtyard, there was a group of tables. Two people sat at opposite sides of a table and played a strange game. “What is it?”

“Cyvasse, it’s a strategy game. The closest to war that any of them will ever get,” Darianna amused. She pointed to an odd nobleman, “if you want to learn, talk to Lionni. He is a good patient teacher. Go ahead. I need to speak with a friend for a moment.” She broke off from him and headed to a blonde young woman about her own age, “Qoqa.”

“Darianna, what have I told you about interrupting me when I’m playing.” Qoqa kept her eyes glued to the game.

“You’re always playing this silly game. Anyway, I found him. The man who might became my lover. Glance at him for a moment. I swear the pieces won’t magically come live and leave the board.”

Qoqa begrudging did it. “He is pleasing looking. Does he have any wit to him?”

“Oh yes, he is clever, charming, fierce and exciting. Also, he’s a prince.”

“You found your dragon piece then.”

“Actually, men refer to him as a viper. To me, he is a tiger. I’ve told you my news. Do you have anything to tell?”

Despite winning the game, Qoqa’s face was glum. “I haven’t discovered any secrets on your opposer in the Elephants.”

On the other side of the courtyard, Oberyn wore a smile even in defeat. “My brother, Doran would love this game.”

“Here,” Lionni handed him two small boxes of pieces and the board for cyvasse.

“I couldn’t,” Oberyn shook his hands.

“Please accept it as gratitude for listening to an old man. Or, more honestly an excuse to my wife, so I can get a new cyvasse game.”

Oberyn chuckled, “thank you.”

“May this game provide you with insight on war.”

There was doubts that this mere game could accomplish this. Yet, as Oberyn stared at the pieces, he understood each piece had its’ own strengths and weakness. He began to wonder what the strengths and weakness were of his own weapons. This gave him an idea. He spoke with Baqyr about it. “Is there a smaller kind of dagger like the onzil that could be thrown? Something that could be concealed under clothing?”

“I don’t know. Ask my sister.”

Further away, Eterpi had been sitting near a pile of bones. She was grinding a bone to a fine point. Her shirt had been removed and fashioned into a sling to carry her baby. Oberyn kneeled down to her. “What’s your baby’s name?”

“Fylma, he is two days old.”

“He is handsome.” Oberyn stared at the bone in her hand. “Are you making weapons?”

“No, we grind down the bones for these plants.” She gestured around them. “Like men favor certain food, plants favor certain foods. Some like bones, blood, or dung. If you find the right food, the plant will happily grow for you.” His eyes seemed deep in thought. “Is there something bothering you, master?”

“Prince Oberyn,” He mildly corrected her. “I was thinking about a small dagger that could be thrown and hidden under clothes. Like this in design,” he showed her his stiletto. “It would be good for surprise attack in a palace or manse.”

Efterpi tossed the stiletto into the air. “This won’t work. The balance is off. I have something that might work.” She got up and grabbed a log from a pile of wood. She curved a spear head dagger. “It’s a woomera. My people used them for hunting small game.”

“It doesn’t suit my needs. What about this?” He pulled out his navaja knife, “similar and perhaps a little bigger.” Efterpi took another piece of wood and curved a new design.

“Will this work?” She held the wooden blade against her leg.

“Yes, it’s perfect,” he inspected it. “How far do you think it can be thrown?”

“About twenty or possibly thirty feet.”

“Good.” He figured several of these blades could be concealed under clothing.

Though what was hiding behind a Shadow Man’s mask, no one knew. Most men with any sense didn’t attempt to find out. There was always something sinister about anything from the Shadowlands. Some Old Blood wished the Red Temple gone because Shadowbinders visited there. They won’t speak a word of this out loud. The warlocks’ power has waned. The Shadowbinders’ power continued to thrive.

Darianna was apprehensive to enter the Shadow Man’s shop. They had observed a man entering the shop and a different man leaving. Burning curiosity soured them to open the door. The place had no windows. The light came from bloodred candles. It was mostly barren except for the shelves, which contained various vials. The Shadow Man bore no tattoos like the others. Though he might have had tattoos under his long sleeves. He wore gloves. None of his skin could be seen.

“Aren’t you hot in that attire?” she instantly regretted asking this.

“The shadows keep me cool.” The man’s voice was deep almost echoing. “What have you brought me in trade?”

“Three rats and two quails,” Oberyn lifted up the cages.

“You caught the rats,” the man pointed to Oberyn. “She brought the birds.”

“Did you have a vision about this?” Darianna guessed.

“No, I have very good eyes and nose,” the man chuckled. “What do you wish for me to give to you?”

“Secrets,” she didn’t hesitate.

Oberyn glanced at the vials, “poisons.”

“I’ll tell two secrets and give you three poisons. Ladies first.”

“I wish to know a secret about an Old Blood named Kyros.”

“A secret that will remove him from his house or his seat of power.”

“His power in the Elephant party.”

“It will be given to you tomorrow. What other secret do you want?”

“Hmm, how does the Shadowlands relate to Old Valyria?”

“That’s more than one secret.”

She watched Oberyn place the quail cage on a table that was leaning up against a wall. “What are you going to do with the rats and quails? Are you going to experiment on them?”

“Nope,” The man whispered briefly in her ear the answer. Her jaw dropped.

Her guard finally mustered up the courage to enter the shop. “Mistress, you shouldn’t be here.” He gently yet firmly pulled her away.

Oberyn remained behind. The Shadow Man turned to him, “What poisons do you want?”

“Something that would cause agonizing pain for my enemies.”

“Manticore poison is quite painful.”

“And too quick,” Oberyn wasn’t impressed since he heard of this poison before.

“A slow revenge,” the man went to a shelf in the far back and presented a vial with a milky like substance inside.

“What kind of poison is this?”

“It isn’t. It’s the only potion here that will cause you no harm even if you swallow all of it. The Old Valyrians stumbled upon it during their work in Gogossos. They called it Stretch. When it’s mixed with a poison, it prolongs the affects of the poison without lessening its’ power or certainty of death.” The man handed Oberyn both vials. “What other poison do you want?”

“What poison do you recommend?”

This startled the man a little. Most people don’t ask. He promptly recovered, “this is Stink Worm. It doesn’t give as much of a painful death and as a humiliating death. Some enemies deserve this fate more.”

There was nothing interesting about Stink Worm at first glance. The substance looked rather dull. Oberyn had returned behind the Black Walls to his bedchambers. That evening, the Stink Worm mixture moved. He couldn’t believe it. He examined it closely near the candlelight. “Not a Stink Worm.”

“There are hundreds of nearly invisible worms inside,” Darianna rested her head on his chest as she laid on his bed. “He told you that you have to feed the worms three drops of blood once a year.”

“Yes, to keep them alive. They lie dormant the rest of the time.” Oberyn put the vial on a small table next to his bed.

“Did he tell you where the poison was from?”

“No, I didn’t inquire.”

“I should have asked for a different secret than about the rats. I should have requested that he removed his mask. Though, it would have been rude.”

“It wouldn’t be an image, which I like to see in my dreams,” Oberyn caressed her face.

They became lovers. It came as no surprise when Darianna informed him that she was pregnant. She arranged for Efterpi to be her wet-nurse. The slave didn’t seem very thrilled at the prospect. Darianna had been busy arranging things for the birth of her baby. She almost forgot her promise to her friend Qoqa.

The previous year, she, Efterpi, her guard and Qoqa had visited the famous SellsTavern. Darianna had to admit that her people were lousy at naming places. Regardless, SellsTavern had been known for catering to all sellswords. Once a year, drinks and food were offered half the regular price to all sellswords. Many flocked to the tavern. Darianna enjoyed flirting and listening to the various men’s tales. Qoqa favored something else. “Each man puts down five gold coins on the table. If he defeats her in a game of cyvasse, she sleeps with him. If he loses, she keeps his coins.” Darianna expounded to Oberyn and Baqyr, who came with them this year. “She has earned fourty gold coins so far. A sellsword Ben Plumm came the closest to winning so far.”

Oberyn stuck by Darianna at the tavern, while Baqyr remained with Qoqa. Women adored strong fighting men. Some glanced at Oberyn. His eyes never strayed from Darianna. When Oberyn proposed marriage to Darianna, she was still in utter shock. Her father and the Princess of Dorne began marriage negotiations. There was procedure to adhere to in most noble pursuits.

Darianna had to follow the rules of debates to make changes in Volantis. A proposal must have majority approval. She presented her case for stronger measures against piracy. She gave a logical argument, her pregnancy added emotional weight and her opponent Kyros had fled Volantis. She should have earned the majority numbers and presented it to Triarch for judgement. She didn’t get enough supporters. She remained undeterred. Next year will be better. She started devising for it. She was thrilled that Oberyn was willing to wait two years for her project to succeed before they would leave for Dorne. She had been reviewing Volantene proposal history for ideas, when her birthing pains erupted. She attempted to concentrate on her work to distract her from the pain. “None of the Triarch’s judgements seemed to follow a pattern. They are too random. I fear politics are devised by mad men.”

“At least, politics are maddening all over Essos and Westeros,” Oberyn chuckled as he held her hand. The birth of his daughter was the most remarkable thing to him. “What should we call her?”

“I don’t know.” Darianna laid her head back exhausted. “What would you like to name her?”

“The best Dornish name,” Oberyn cradled his daughter in his arms, “Nymeria.”

This was pleasing to her as was a bath. Her slaves prepared a bath for Darianna and escort her to it. Efterpi came over to take care of the baby. Oberyn hovered over his daughter excitedly. He was still stunned by how marvelous Nymeria was. Efterpi didn’t look well. Her lip was bleeding. Her cheeks and eyes were red. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Prince Oberyn,” it was an obvious lie. “She had your eyes. They’re beautiful. I should take her to her chambers to nurse.”

“I’ll accompany you.” He hoped that she would reveal it eventually. He would respect her wishes for now. “Where is your son? Is he out playing in the garden?”

She hung her head down to conceal her tears. “Master Vhalaso… he took him away to be sold.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.”

He touched her face. “I’ll get him back.” Oberyn immediately departed. He busted into Darianna’s bath. “Where is Efterpi’s son?”

“Father is selling him at the courtyard auction.” Darianna was dazzled at his sudden appearance. “So, she wouldn’t be distracted from caring for our daughter.”

“Detestable! Where is the auction being held? I want directions NOW!”

She remained baffled at his intensity and anger. One of her slaves told him the information. He rushed over and brought back little Fylma. Vhalaso had believed he had purchased the boy as leverage against the mother as some men had done. Oberyn found the concept of harming a child to be revolting. He forcefully made his feeling known to Vhalaso.

His Dornish companions counseled to apologize to Vhalaso. He was soon to be his father-in-law. “I won’t. He is a fiendish man. First, he doubled the bride price and then charged for me to have my own daughter.” Oberyn complained, “stealing a baby from his mother is simply monstrous. The man doesn’t deserve it for all these offences.”

“It wasn’t his idea,” the household slave’s voice was as soft as a mouse. He would normally keep his tongue silent. Since Oberyn returned Efterpi’s son to her, he admired Oberyn and confessed the truth. “Master Vhalaso only raised the bride price and charged for the baby under his daughter influence.”

This changed everything. Oberyn confronted Darianna. She had been picking fabrics for the wedding. He quietly entered the room, “leave us.” The slaves sensed something wrong and promptly walked away.

Darianna was unaware. “I’m thinking of silk and Myrish lace for the gown.”

“You also thought of doubling the bride price,” he accused.

“It’s only your family’s money. You’re a prince. You can afford it.”

“I had intended to give your father three times the amount.”

“Then I saved you money. I don’t understand your issue with this.”

“I was going to do it out of love. You did it to appease your own vanity.” Oberyn turned his back on her. “The wedding is off.”

He took his daughter and the wet-nurse Efterpi. He gave Efterpi a silver star coin. “We, Dornish have no slaves. You will be paid for your work that you choose to do.”

“I’ll serve you well, my prince,” she vowed as her son stood by her on the ship.

They sailed for Qohor and finally Dorne. The Princess of Dorne was in eager expectation since she received word of her son’s arrival. Oberyn bowed his mother and presented gifts to his family. His sister Elia didn’t care as much for the Myrish lace as she did in seeing her niece. She ran over to hold Nymeria and showered the baby with affection.

“We were hoping to meet your new wife.” The Princess addressed Oberyn.

“She proved ill-suited for Dorne.”

His older brother Doran whispered to his mother. “They won’t be happy that he has returned home so early.”

“He has learnt something during his time.” The princess said confidently. “Even under the most severe punishment, how many men have truly learned anything from their experience?”

**Author's Note:**

> For more information, please go to https://aurora-light-blog.tumblr.com/


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